That's the Last Straw... I'm Moving to Neverland!

   I love my pediatrician. He's a smiley sort of fellow who probably should be retired by now, but keeps on pediatricianing because he loves children. The walls are painted with cute elephants and scenes from The Very Hungry Caterpillar, not cold and scary like other doctors offices (ahem! You know who you are). There are colorful rocking horses in all of the examining rooms.

   Last week I went to the grown-up doctor to do a strep test, and I realized how much I hated it. When the lady put the light in my ear, she didn't tell me I had mermaids and fairies in my head - and call me crazy, but I missed that. Like, a lot. If this is what growing up is like, I want no part of it. When I pass by a mirror, sometimes I do a double take, and then I feel like one of those enchanted people in books looking in the mirror and feeling their faces and exclaiming in surprise, "what've you done to me? I'm old!"

   It's not just not being able to see Dr. Whiting anymore that's driving me crazy. There are all sorts of things about growing up that I did not sign up for -- like having to sort my money. By the time I've given some to short-term savings, some to my church, some to college, etc., I don't have any left for myself! I can only imagine what it's going to be like when the government starts to want in on the action.

   And don't get me started on my body. All the girls at my school are counting calories, and I'm just over here like one of those cats that won't stop being annoying until you feed it (except I can feed myself). To look presentable, you're supposed to slather your face in makeup (unless you're a dude, of course).

   You know that one teacher who always accuses students of acting like five-year olds? I think we should all just go and do that. We'd get the best of both worlds, because we'd have the emotional maturity not to yell and push over toys, but we'd still get to play with them. Storytime would be a whole lot less complicated, because we could all read to ourselves (and I don't care what anybody says - you're never too old for a good picture book). And do you have any idea how many adults and high-schoolers would kill to have naptime every day?!

   There would be no boy-girl drama because cooties would re-emerge, and walking around with blankets would be socially acceptable. I don't know about you, but when I'm cold, the right kind of blanket is warmer and cuddlier than any hoodie I've ever worn. And we'd get to wash with tear-free shampoo that smells like berries. We'd get to watch those Baby Einstein shows - you know the ones I'm talking about, the ones with the puppets and pretty colors - shamelessly. And when we went to get our hair cut, we could all ride in those cute little ducks and trains. I've always wanted to get my hair cut inside of a duck.

Here's some music now for your inner child to enjoy. It's a lullaby I heard all the time as a kid - when I found it again just recently, I played it over and over and over again until my family went berserk. But I promise - it's really nice the first time.